No Sin But Innocence
by somerdaye
Summary: It's been four and a half years since Hikaru's seen the Club. Three years since he's seen his brother, and seven months since he last talked to him. But it's not like he's addicted to anything, oh no. He just likes the rush. Slash.
1. painting flowers

**disclaimer;** I totally own it. Mhm.

**warnings;** multiple 'triggers', drug abuse, language, boylove, etc.

Still interested? All right, then. Full steam ahead, I say.

I will say, though, that I don't plan on writing a lemon, since for the life of me I cannot do it.

**xx**

show my cards

give you my heart

wish we could start all over

nothing's making sense at all

-painting flowers, all time low

**xx**

Personally, Hikaru never understood the fuss people made about Valentine's Day. Not that it got any better when he moved to France - the opposite actually. French people can be insane about celebrating this particular holiday.

He lights a cigarette, watching the tip burn in the half light of the messy hotel room. _Messy…ha. Trashed is more like it._

He inhales the smoke gratefully, trying not to think about Japan.

But it's impossible not to on bad days like these; especially holidays.

Because he'll think to himself _Maybe I should give Kaoru a call to see how he's doing, _but then he'll remember that _Oh yeah, Kaoru doesn't want or need me anymore._

Then he'll find himself with a syringe in his shaking hands and tears staining his once- pretty cheeks.

So he doesn't pick up the phone.

Or the syringe, for that matter.

He decides he has to get out of this wreck he calls a home and go for a long walk to clear his head. Maybe the night air will do him some good.

Uncaring about people might think, he stalks out of his room, number 312, with the smoke still wedged between his cracked lips.

He pushes the button on the wall and waits impatiently for the elevator to arrive.

When the doors finally slide open he's met with the sight of a young mother with two small children, obviously not getting off on this floor. So he turns around and walks to the stairs. He's not about to make them breathe in the nicotine and he's also not about to put his smoke out before he's finished. _What a waste of money that would be._

He snorts to himself as he begins to descend the stairs. Not because it's amusing in any way…but because he's so not used to worrying about _money_ of all things.

Back when he was a kid, money was always there. It didn't matter how many things Hikaru and Kaoru wanted; they got it. All of it. Because _money wasn't a problem _and their mother was _incredibly successful _and yadda yadda yadda.

But it's not exactly his dear old mum controlling the purse strings anymore; and Kaoru refuses to give his twin money for _that disgusting drug habit of yours. I mean, really, Hikaru? _

It's not a habit. It's not a vice or an addiction or a sin.

It's just a want. Perhaps a craving.

But Hikaru Hitatchiin, addicted? Never; he relied on nothing and no one.

_(At the thought he squashes the rising feeling of loneliness and doesn't picture the look on Kaoru's face when he found Hikaru smoking a joint in the shower that one time.)_

He glares at the doorman as he strides through the lobby like he owns the place _(and he might as well considering his sister in law's family runs this hotel chain…which is the only reason he got a room) _and cockily blows a puff of smoke right in the affronted man's ugly face.

And then finally he's outside…and he can't breathe.

He wants to go for a long walk, one where he can't think about stuff that's important. A walk where he doesn't have to dwell on what his brother might be doing at the moment.

He just sits directly on the curb in front of the hotel's entrance.

It's almost nine o'clock on a windy February evening. The street is dark, but not dark enough.

Hikaru watches cars fly by, thinking of the people inside them. They must all have somewhere to go, someone to see, something to do.

Unlike him.

A voice in his head he's certain was once his conscience whispers _that's your own damn fault. _

His and nobody else's.

Because well, he was the one who took the joint Mei had offered him a few years back. He had been at his and Kaoru's graduation party, held at the Hitatchiin mansion of course. He'd caught sight of Tamaki and Haruhi kissing by the piano and decided that it would be a great time for him to disappear.

He sneaked out to the secluded back patio, surprised to find Mei and a few others giggling around one of the circular glass tables.

"Hi," Mei smiled lazily, waving the blunt. _Not that he'd known what it was at the time. Ah, he used to be so innocent. It was almost sad. _"Congratulations. Want some?"

And the circle of people looked so _happy_ that he accepted the offer without hesitation.

He needed a bit of a distraction.

It all went downhill from there.

Taking one last, long drag from his cigarette, Hikaru crushes the blunt into the cold sidewalk with a sigh.

He really has gone downhill. He's at rock bottom.

He wants to stand up, maybe go back inside and pick up that tantalizing syringe but it's only been eight hours and he wants to see how long he can hold out for.

Because really, he's not addicted. Seriously.

"Hikaru? _Hitatchiin_ Hikaru?"

A shocked voice breaks into his inner monologue. Disinterestedly, he looks up to the sound of the voice.

The only thing even vaguely intriguing about him is the slight Japanese accent. His name was actually pronounced properly for the first time in almost five years.

"Yeah?" He asks in the most bored tone he could muster. All he wants is to be left alone. If it's someone with a Japanese accent, it's someone he really doesn't want to see.

"What are you doing here?" Genuine surprise and concern color the intruder's tone. Hikaru can't see him properly at this angle.

"I live here," he deadpans, standing up and turning to face the person he's carrying on a conversation with.

He almost falls into the gutter.

"_Tono_!"

He gives his old king a dazzling smile but seems to know better than to offer him a hug. There's something different about him, Hikaru decides, but he can't place his finger on it.

"Fuck me, what are you doing here? Don't you and Haruhi live somewhere in the Okinawa district?" To be honest, he doesn't know where Tamaki lives not having spoken to the man for around four and a half years.

"Not anymore," he says, something flickering in his eyes that is so unlike the Tamaki Hikaru knew that it causes him to shiver. Tamaki's face softens. "Are you cold? You really don't have a sweater on or anything. Do you need a place to crash?"

Hikaru gives him a strange look.

Misreading it, Tamaki starts to ramble. It's what he does best. "I mean, I just moved here about a week ago and the mansion is huge but it's all empty and I never expected to see you around these parts because I heard you were in Dijon and it's so nice to see a familiar face and I-"

"Tono, shut up." Hikaru closes his eyes and counts to ten. He forgot how overbearing his self-proclaimed daddy could be. "Yeah, I'd love to crash at your place but shouldn't you check with Haruhi? I wouldn't want to impose or anything."

More like: _I don't want to see how goddamn happy the two of you are without me in your lives. It's even Valentine's Day for Christ's sake. No thank you. _

Tamaki winces a little like Hikaru dealt him a physical blow. "You…you don't have to worry about Haruhi. She's still in Japan."

"For how long?" _How long can I stay before I have to endure the two of you being all lovey dovey? _

"Forever, I think."

A long pause. Tamaki shifts uncomfortably from foot to foot, looking more like the teenager Hikaru remembers.

"I'll go get my stuff," Hikaru finally says and instructs the older man to wait outside while he packs a bag.

He doesn't want Tamaki to see the disaster area he's currently living in.

As quickly as possible, he retrieves his backpack from its precarious perch on the ceiling fan and starts to pile any piece of clothing his hand touches into it. He tosses in necessities like a toothbrush and deodorant before heading out the door.

He looks back. It's still sitting there on the nightstand, taunting him.

After a heated internal debate, Hikaru dives across the room and snatches the syringe, shoving it in the pack with all the other stuff. Just in case.

Not because he's addicted or anything.

He rushes back out and down the stairs, wondering if maybe there were some sort of hallucinogens in his cigarette, and maybe he imagined the whole thing because _Tamaki and Haruhi are living in separate countries what the fuck is going on _but the blond is still waiting for him when he skids to a halt in front of him, panting slightly.

Tamaki smiles, but Hikaru notices that it's not exactly exuberant and then it clicks.

That's what's missing…that's what's wrong.

His lord isn't happy anymore.

"Shall we go?" the blond asks, gesturing down the now pitch dark street.

Hikaru nods with a flippant little grin. "Lead on, monseigneur Suoh."

* * *

Tamaki's house is huge and Hikaru still wants to hate him for it, for still having money, but he can't. Not least because he gets to stay the night in the whitewashed brick mansion. He gives the large rose garden an amused look because it's so Tamaki to have his own rose garden and he probably takes care of it himself because that's the _commoner _way to do it.

"I told you it's empty," Tamaki laughs self-consciously as they walk through the glass double doors at the front of the house. Hikaru takes in his surroundings and realizes the blond spoke the truth.

There isn't any furniture, or décor, or even moving boxes. He looks into the front room, with a huge bay window and the only thing in there is a grand piano.

"Haruhi made me take that." Tamaki says from behind. Hikaru turns to give his old leader a 'what the fuck is happening' look. Tamaki grimaces. "All I have besides that is a bed and an alarm clock. Until I have the motivation to go furniture shopping, anyway."

"But…why?"

Hikaru is now genuinely confused. Haruhi made him take a piano to France? Huh?

Sighing, Tamaki leads him to a sparkling kitchen and sits on an island stool. Hikaru figures the kitchen came with the house and perches himself on another stool as he lets his backpack crash to the floor.

There's a long silence, in which Hikaru waits impatiently for Tamaki to explain why he's living in France while his _wife _is in Japan.

Finally, finally, Tamaki says softly "Haruhi…was being kind of distant and I didn't understand why because I was totally being the perfect husband. I had sent flowers to her office every Monday because she hates Mondays and I'd rub her feet every night while we watched _Hitotsu Yane No Shita_ and ate strawberries because, Hikaru, she loves strawberries and-"

"Yeah, yeah I get it. You're amazing," Hikaru can't help the jealousy coloring his tone. "Why are you here?"

The blond gives him an apologetic look and takes a deep breath.

"She's pregnant," he says in a small voice, resting his head in his arms on the island counter.

Hikaru feels anger bubble up inside of him, not helped by the fact that it has now been _nine _hours since he last took a hit and his nerves are wound up tight.

"So why did you leave?" He grinds out through his teeth. If the bastard up and left Haruhi because she's pregnant…heads will roll.

Tamaki doesn't raise his head when he answers. "I didn't leave. She kicked me out."

Now Hikaru is angry, confused, jealous, and starting to feel the withdrawal symptoms. Not a good mix of emotions at all, especially for the temperamental once red-head.

"Why?"

"Apparently it's not mine."

Which of course makes Hikaru's brain pretty much shut down because _what._

Tamaki launches into a long, rambling explanation about how Haruhi somehow fell out of love with him and _in _love with another guy who got her drunk or something and the next thing she knew she was sleeping with him and Tamaki didn't find out until she came home from work crying her eyes out and said _I'm pregnant_.

Of course, Tamaki didn't see what was wrong with that - he was ecstatic. Him, a daddy! How exciting!

But then Haruhi told him she was five weeks pregnant and it took him a second with all the mental math that he just wasn't any good at but he figured out what he was trying to say.

He had been away on business that whole week.

"So then she said it would probably best if I moved out and went to France to take care of maman, so that's what I did."

And Hikaru can picture it so clearly. The excitement on Tamaki's face, the tears in Haruhi's eyes, the absolute devastation from the words _five weeks pregnant_. He doesn't know what to do since he really hasn't been around people for years except for people at parties and clubs, but they usually don't need comforting (and when they do he hightails it outta there).

So all he says, all he knows how to say is "D'you want a joint?" even though he remembers that Tamaki was incredibly opposed to any and all drugs and used to say that he knew some great therapists that could help Hikaru get over his addiction.

It's not an addiction, dammit. He can stop any time he fucking pleases.

He just really doesn't want to.

And so it astounds him when the blond head rises from his arms and the once jubilant voice whispers "Why the hell not?" and the perfectly manicured fingernails reach out in acceptance of Hikaru's offer.

So the brunet reaches into his pack for his bag of weed without question.

He realizes that for such a dramatic change of heart, Tamaki must really be hurting.

But at least now, Hikaru isn't the only one.

"Happy Valentine's Day, Tono."

**xx**

**TBC  
**

**xx**

**note; **If you enjoyed it, let me know, but I love constructive criticism like it's my firstborn. Omnomnom.


	2. best days of your life

**disclaimer;** I, unfortunately, am not Bisco Hatori. Or Kellie Pickler, for that matter.

**warnings;** multiple 'triggers', drug abuse, boylove, etc.

Still interested? All right, then. Full steam ahead, I say.

**note;** Thanks to the people who reviewed last chapter; stylewriter565; December'sRose; chobnbeese; Magician April Aries.

Special thanks to December'sRose for betaing, and to MAA-chan for nudging me to update. :) Love you guys!

**xx**

ain't it a shame?

a shame that everytime you hear my name

brought up in a casual conversation

you can't think straight

-best days of your life, kellie pickler

**xx**

There are way too many colors. He can pick out every color of the rainbow, and ones that _he_ has a name for, but he doubts anyone else knows these specific names.

_Kyouya's couch_ green. _Maman's favorite shirt_ lilac. _Ouran jacket_ blue.

He's getting kind of dizzy and he's not sure if it's because of all the colors or because he's spinning in fast circles - wait, when did he start spinning?

He doesn't really know, or care. All he knows is that nothing can bring him down from this...this _high_ and all he cares about is that the colors keep dancing for him for as long as possible.

And he's super convinced that nothing _will_ bring him down from his high. He'll just keep twirling and dancing with all the colors of his life.

All the colors...

He stops. Staring him right in the face is a color he really really doesn't want or need to see right now. He's been seeing the color for ten years now, and it represents something different to him depending on the year he thinks back to.

Annoyance. Amusement. Respect. Helplessness. Love. Irritation. Indifference. Anger.

He's christened the color _Haruhi's eyes_ brown, and there's no way he wants to think about the last time he'd seen that particular shade of brown because _oh God_ he's about to start sobbing and there's nothing he can do to stop it and the high is crashed, crashed and _burned_ to the ground and -

Then he wakes up.

* * *

When Tamaki wakes up, he feels dazed. And confused. He doesn't ponder as to why that makes him want to laugh, instead he rubs his eyes and looks around his desolate bedroom, still half-asleep.

And, well, when he sees a dark-haired someone sleeping soundly with their back to him, his heart leaps as his mind calls _Haruhi!_

But then the someone rolls over, mumbling incoherencies.

And no, it's not his wife. His soon to be ex-wife.

His mind working slower than usual, Tamaki studies the younger man with a frown.

Hikaru had always been thin, but never to this extent. His clothes, that would fit Kaoru perfectly, perhaps even snugly, are hanging off his frame, wrinkled and dirty. His cheeks are sunken and there are dark bags under his eyelids, like he seriously hasn't gotten enough sleep lately.

Tamaki sits up, starting to get more awake as he remembers the previous night. It really wasn't like him at all, but he'd taken Hikaru up on his offer of drugs and...and he'd _liked_ it. He'd _liked_ the rush, the high, the fact that for a few hours he could just _forget_.

He glances down at Hikaru, about to wake him up and demand to know when they can get high again, when he catches a glimpse of a pale wrist half hidden by the covers. Carefully, Tamaki moves the blanket down so Hikaru's arm is completely exposed, and almost gasps out loud.

There's so many puncture wounds. It confuses Tamaki - why does Hikaru's arm have puncture wounds? It looks as though a highly incompetent nurse missed the spot she was supposed to inject a needle into.

...Twenty times.

And the _scars_. Why are there deep grooves in the pale arm? Did Hikaru get into a fight with someone who had a knife?

Before Tamaki can get any more puzzled, Hikaru's eyes snap open, glaring at him.

"Stop staring at me," the brunet hisses.

"But, why is your arm all -?"

"Go get my backpack."

Tamaki pauses, not sure he heard the man properly. "Your -?"

"Backpack. _Now_." Hikaru all but snarls the command, and Tamaki leaps out of the bed as though electrocuted.

He hurries down the stairs, stumbling on every step but luckily not falling, and grabs the backpack off of the floor beside the piano. That's where they'd left it last night, after Hikaru'd decided he wanted to hear Tamaki play something, anything, while he munched on Oreos and swayed by himself in the middle of the room.

He runs back up the stairs, and really does trip this time, on the last step. His beautiful face collides with the marble floor. He lets out a squawk of pain and struggles to his feet.

When the blond finally gets back into his practically-empty bedroom, Hikaru's sitting up in bed and shaking. Tamaki thrusts the backpack at him, which he snatches like it's his firstborn child that Tamaki stole to have it fed to sadistic cannibals and -

_Why does Hikaru have a needle?_

Hands shaking erratically, Hikaru puts something white into the syringe and _oh my God is he doing what I think he's doing please tell me he isn't oh my God_.

Tamaki watches, morbidly fascinated, as Hikaru injects himself with a highly addictive and completely illegal drug. The brunet inhales sharply through his teeth, glances at the alarm clock on the floor and smiles a humourless smile to nobody.

"Twenty hours. Nice."

"Can I have some of that?" Tamaki blurts out, and he's not sure what makes him do it, but he's heard that 'smack' gives you a rush that lasts a few hours and he could really do with some kind of out-of-body experience right now.

Hikaru gives him a look that clearly questions the blond's sanity. "Are you fucking kidding? Not even maybe. I have to save some of this, you know. I'm not made of money anymore."

Tamaki sits down on the bed and crosses his legs gym-style. "Sorry," he says, and he means it. He knows he's probably freaking Hikaru out with his sudden gung-ho attitude about drugs, but quite honestly he doesn't care so much about that. What he's sorry about is the fact that Hikaru doesn't have money. He hadn't known that.

Stretching his limbs, Hikaru yawns and makes a little mewling noise that convinces Tamaki the Hitachiin was a cat in a previous life.

And then he remembers that Haruhi always wanted to buy a cat but they never got around to it. He was going to get her one for her birthday. A fluffy white one.

And he has to think about something, _anything_ else before that constricting feeling in his chest gets even worse so he asks Hikaru the first question that comes to mind, "Not a lot of money, though? Like...how bad is it?"

Golden eyes flash with anger and resentment and something that Tamaki can only label as _bitterness_ because it's the same look Kyouya gets when talking about his father and then Hikaru just looks _sad_ and Tamaki's confused because can it really be that bad?

"It's really bad." Hikaru pulls his knees up to his chest and looks like a lost little boy. The look doesn't coincide well with his prematurely lined face and his white knuckles as he grips the syringe like it's his lifeline - and it may as well be.

"Oh?" Tamaki asks, his mouth dry. He thinks that maybe, just maybe, he asked the wrong question and maybe he should just change the subject but Hikaru has the most _destroyed_ expression on his face so he can't bring himself to open his mouth again.

"Let me put it to you this way, Tono," he says, his eyes downcast. He looks almost _ashamed_ and Tamaki really wishes he had a dictionary or some kind of guide so he can understand the connections between Hikaru's expressions. Unfortunately he understands with Hikaru's next words, and really wishes he didn't. "I once gave some guy a blowjob for ten bucks because I hadn't eaten in two days."

The brunet in front of him that's really only twenty-five years old looks hopelessly _lost_ and _bitter_ and _ashamed_ and Tamaki can't take another second of it because four and a half years apart or not the man is one of his best friends.

"Well _that's_ certainly never happening again," Tamaki says with a forced grin. "Since you'll be living with me from now on and everything."

Hikaru looks taken aback which, frankly, Tamaki doesn't understand because he _had_ to have seen the offer coming. What kind of a person would leave a hungry, poor, practically homeless _friend_ out on the streets to shoot up and sell his body for a hamburger?

He reads the answer in the golden eyes.

_Why are you helping me?_ they seem to say. _Kaoru kicked me out years ago. He sent me to another country for fuck's sake._

"Look, it's gonna be lonely here for me," Tamaki admits. "And, besides, you're living in a hotel room, are you not? You have no food, no money. No job."

Hikaru flinches with every accusation, but doesn't deny a single one.

"So?" he demands, his pride obviously hurt.

"So you'll live here," the blond shrugs. "Free room and board. Trust me, I have enough money for neither of us to have to work again in our lives. What do you say?"

They stare at each other, sizing the other up.

Hikaru's cracked lips curve into a tentative, genuine smile. "I say...thank you." He sounds so sincere that Tamaki actually reaches over and ruffles his dyed hair.

The blond grins toothily and declares, "Come on, up and at 'em. I'm getting some bacon into you. All ninety pounds of you."

"I am a _cent-livre_ man, thank you very much. But I'll take you up on that bacon."

* * *

It's two hours after Hikaru woke up and had some kind of 'episode', and all the bacon's gone. Hikaru devoured it like he hadn't had a good meal in days - and honestly he probably hasn't, which is deeply depressing. After they cleaned up the kitchen because Tamaki didn't have any 'help' yet, they sat down at the island.

And sat.

In silence.

Until, finally, Tamaki hears the words he's been dreading, and he's rather glad he had some years away from them because _oh my Lord I forgot how scary they are_.

"I'm bored."

Crap.

"And as we all know," Tamaki starts off with a slight grin. "A bored Hitachiin -"

"- is a dangerous Hitachiin. Ain't that the truth."

Tamaki snickers with the younger man, feeling more comfortable. "Well, why don't we play a game?"

Making a face, Hikaru asks, "Does it involve moving?"

"Not at all," the blond says reassuringly. "It's a simple game of _Vingt Questions_."

Hikaru considers the idea for a moment or so, and Tamaki's really, really hoping he agrees to the game because otherwise they might end up bungee jumping off the Eiffel Tower or something equally Hitachiin-esque. (Actually, he takes that back. Kaoru's perfectly normal now that he's settled down and away from Hikaru's antics. Not that it makes him any less jumpy when visiting the redhead, of course.)

"Okay," Hikaru concedes, making Tamaki let out a breath of relief. "You go first."

"Oh, um, all right." He thinks about it for a second, trying to figure out what a 'safe' question would be in this situation. "Have you had any girlfriends since you got to France?"

Hikaru's mouth twists into something that might be a smile, but if it is one, it's an incredibly sardonic smile and it makes Tamaki's stomach churn. "Nope, none."

"Your turn," Tamaki says, starting to get worried. Why did he suggest this game? Seriously, Hikaru Hitachiin could turn _any_ game into 'Tono-Torture', and there's no reason Twenty Questions would be any different at all.

"Right, well, I'm curious," Hikaru says, leaning his elbows on the granite countertop and his chin in his hands. His golden eyes seem to peer right into Tamaki's soul, which makes him feel very fidgety. "Do...do you know who, um, the...father...is?"

The question is awkward, not least because of the stab of pain Tamaki feels as soon as the word _father_ is spoken so _apologetically_."Not a clue."

There's a pause, in which the brunet continues to stare and the blond continues to fidget nervously. Then, Tamaki sighs and looks down at his lap, where he has his hands clasped.

"She won't tell me. I guess she's afraid I'll ruin the guy's reputation or sic Kyouya's private police force on him or something. But I wouldn't do that, I swear."

Hikaru snorts. "I would. I'd do worse."

Tamaki wants to snap _yes and that's why she chose me and not you_ but catches himself just in time. He sneaks a glance back up at his companion, who's looking at him knowingly, like he knows exactly what Tamaki was about to say.

"Irregardless." The younger man yawns and stretches his arms above his head. Rubbing his hair, he continues. "It's your turn."

"What all types of drugs have you done?" Tamaki inquires, genuinely curious.

Leaning back, two of the legs on Hikaru's stool lift off the ground perilously. He braces himself against the island with his hands. He seems to be thinking hard, counting in his head, maybe.

"Well, weed and smack, obviously, as you've seen me do both," he says. He frowns a little. "And I've tried coke and a few other things, but I don't do them often at all."

"So you're not addicted to them." Tamaki thinks he understands.

The stool legs crash back to the marble floor with a deafening _clank_. Golden eyes glare harshly at him, and he can't figure out why.

"I'm not _addicted_ to anything," Hikaru seethes. With that, he stands up and stalks to the hallway, calling out behind him, "This place is boring, I'm going out!"

The front door slams, and Tamaki sits there in the kitchen, stunned. The Hitachiin was really touchy about that subject...he decides not to bring up the word _addicted_ ever again. If he wants to keep his nose the perfect shape it's in, that is.

He thinks that it sounds more like Hikaru's in denial, because that's what Hikaru does best. But he won't voice that aloud, even to himself - it would be such a crime if his beautiful face got rearranged.

_Methinks the lady doth protest too much_.

Except Hikaru isn't really a lady. Ah, well. The quote's nice, anyway, Tamaki shrugs to himself before getting up to go take a shower and try not to think about those huge brown eyes.

**xx**

**TBC**

**xx**

**note;** Love it? Hate it? Somewhere in between? Lemme know.


	3. parasite

**disclaimer;** I don't own the songs Parasite/Tout Le Monde, or Ouran High School Host Club. Which, well, just kind of sucks.

**warnings;** multiple 'triggers', drug abuse, boylove, etc.

Still interested? All right, then. Full steam ahead, I say.

**notes;** Special shout-out to my beta, December'sRose. :D Love you, dearie~!

And thank youuuuu! to the people who reviewed last chapter; Thatzly; Lovers Revenge; Chetanlaiho; Maa-chan; Symone; stylewriter565; Rubberxduckies12; and Red. I love you all! :D

**xx**

i just don't understand

this old habit

that keeps repeating

you know you'd do it again

-parasite, disturbed

**xx**

Addiction.

_Noun. The state of being enslaved to a habit or practice or to something that is psychologically or physically habit-forming, as narcotics, to such an extent that its cessation causes severe trauma._

Hikaru knows he's not _addicted_ to anything. That's just not possible. His body craves it, yes, but if his mind denies it he won't go crazy or anything.

Convincing himself of this simple fact is getting more difficult by the second. He's positive it's Tamaki's fault because, really, what _isn't_ that moron's fault?

He glares at the darkening sky and shoves his hands in his pockets. He doesn't want to feel regret for even thinking his host is a moron. It's nothing but the truth, after all.

"Need a light?" someone asks him. He shakes his head and walks away from the faceless girl, not in the mood to talk to any of the people at his usual stomping grounds. Because if he does, he'll end up in one of their beds, and he's pretty sure Tamaki will send out a search party - or at the very least, a helicopter - if he doesn't come home in the next few hours.

It's getting harder and harder to resist, though. He can see the greenish smoke, wafting out the open screen door. He's out on the back porch of some loser's house, trying to avoid looking at the setting sun. _Tono's probably getting worried...maybe he has dinner ready. I should go back._

Yet he can't bring himself to. Not just yet.

He's a little miffed that he forgot his syringe, but it's only been about five hours since he woke up, and he knows now he can go four times that without a hit. It's not comfortable, but he can if he needs to.

Hikaru sighs and wonders if it's really okay to drag Tamaki into his messed-up world. It's been so long since _anyone_ was in his world. Haruhi'd left it the second she caught wind of his drinking and smoking 'habits'. Kaoru tried, for a long time, to understand and to help, but after their mom died, he decided Hikaru wasn't fit to run the company. Or do much of anything else. So he sent Hikaru to France, as much as it hurt him to drive his brother away like that.

Hikaru thinks he understands now. He gets why Kaoru kicked him out. If he hadn't, Hikaru would have ended up corrupting his baby brother. But he's not entirely sure that Tamaki's in his right mind - and he's certainly corrupting his king.

He wants to call Kaoru, to ask his twin for some advice, but his sister-in-law, Kimi, doesn't much like him. Nor does she appreciate being called at - Hikaru glances at his cheap watch and does the mental calculations - four in the morning.

So he'll just have to figure it out on his own.

The idea is scarier than he cares to admit.

Habit.

_Noun. An acquired behavior pattern regularly followed until it has become almost involuntary._

Even after seven months of no contact, the first option to come to Hikaru's mind is to call Kaoru. That's one habit he'll admit to - there are just some bonds that absolutely cannot be broken, no matter what.

Hikaru closes his eyes, tuning out the voices and music coming from inside the house. He's been thinking of his twin more often than usual, and he's sure it has something to do with Tamaki. The Suoh randomly appearing opened up a vista of memories and emotions Hikaru would really rather forget.

_Her hair is black and wavy, voluminous, and her eyes are big and brown. She's gorgeous and her clothes are impeccable; the red silk clings to her frame perfectly. He can't help but hate her. She smiles at him, but it's a forced smile, and it makes him hate her even more. "Pleasure to meet you, Hikaru-san."_

_He smiles back, and it's just as unnatural, but he's a much better actor. "The pleasure is all mine, Kimi-chan." She recognises the honorific as the jab it is, and she bristles._

_But neither of them dare comment, what with Kaoru standing between them with such a big smile on his face. When his back is turned, Hikaru glares daggers at the tiny woman, who gives him a low snarl in return._

_"What was that noise?" Kaoru asks, looking between the two of them. Their faces are already composed back into polite masks._

_"Nothing, sweetie," Kimi purrs, giving Hikaru a smug look as her fingers trail down his twin's arm. She entwines their fingers together._

_Hikaru continues to smile, but it's practically a grimace now. "Absolutely nothing."_

Groaning, Hikaru opens his eyes to realise he'd been reminiscing for longer than he thought. It's already dark out. He stands up and stretches, deciding to walk back to Tamaki's house. After all, it's only a couple blocks away, if he remembers correctly.

He goes around the side of the crumbling house and reaches the street without running into anybody unpleasant. He withdraws a cigarette from his jeans pocket and frowns slightly. His lighter is still at Tamaki's, resting on the kitchen counter from their escapades the previous night.

He looks around to see if he can find someone who will give him a light - he's now regretting giving that girl the cold shoulder - but there's nobody outside. The whole street is quiet, empty, except for inside the brick house. But if he steps one foot in there, he knows he won't come back out.

Giving up, Hikaru returns the smoke to his pocket and starts to walk in the direction of his current residence.

* * *

"Hikaru, you're back! Are you okay, are you hurt? Come in, come in. I should probably get you a key."

Hikaru finds the familiar rambling comforting and smiles despite his foul mood. On impulse, he gives the blond man a quick hug. Tamaki, though a little surprised, hugs him back with a laugh.

"You stink, I hope you know that," Tamaki says as they pull away, wrinkling his nose. "When was the last time you took a shower? Or even changed your clothes?"

Considering the question, Hikaru shrugs. "Like, a few days, maybe?"

"That's disgusting," Tamaki declares, pointing to the staircase. "Bathroom's on the left. Towels are in there."

Hikaru wants to retort _yes, mom_ in an offhand tone, but the words stick in his throat as he thinks about his mother. Instead, what comes out is, "Yes, sir."

The worst part is the tone of his voice. It's not the sarcastic, detached voice he was going for. He sounds like he's _pouting _about _taking a shower_.

_So we're eight again, are we?_

Tamaki just chortles and steers the brunet toward the staircase. "How high _are _you?"

Deflecting the question, Hikaru asks when dinner will be ready. Assured that it will be ready for him when he gets out of the shower, he trudges up the stairs like he's walking to the gallows.

Shutting the bathroom door behind him, Hikaru makes a face at the gleaming porcelian surfaces. In his hotel room, he has a showerhead and a sink. Tamaki has a jacuzzi tub and a separate shower. And _two_ sinks.

"Damn rich people," he mutters to himself, tugging his too-big shirt over his head. He doesn't mean to, but he glances toward the huge mirror and catches sight of his reflection.

Hikaru is well aware he's been avoiding mirrors. He broke the one in his hotel room (and the one in the elevator, but nobody can prove that) just so he wouldn't have to look at himself. At first, it was because he didn't want to see Kaoru in the mirror anymore.

Now, he realises, acid burning in his throat, he doesn't see Kaoru.

Hell, he doesn't see _Hikaru_.

His hair's too long, his face too thin. The golden eyes he used to be so proud of are dull, almost lifeless. There's a faint hickey on his neck from someone he wishes he could remember, and bruises pretty much cover his chest.

Plus, Kaoru would probably never get piercings - especially on his nipples.

_Was it a dare?_ Hikaru frowns, flicking one of the tiny hoops. _Or was I even conscious?_

He can't remember for the life of him.

Turning away from the mirror, Hikaru feels shaken by his own appearance. He hadn't realised it was getting so bad.

* * *

The smell of chicken has Hikaru downstairs before he can even try and find his backpack. He stands in the kitchen doorway, wrapped in a fluffy white housecoat he'd found on the back of the bathroom door.

Tamaki looks over from the stove, where it looks like he's boiling potatoes, and smiles. "There, now doesn't that feel much better?"

Nodding absentmindedly, Hikaru breathes in the mouthwatering scent of good food. When was the last time he had chicken? Christmas, at Kaoru's house. Three years ago. Kimi nearly burned it, of course, since she'd always been absolutely hopeless at cooking. Everybody had laughed it off but him - he was wondering why he was even _there_. After voicing these thoughts, he found himself on a red-eye flight back to Paris. Thanks to his _dear_ sister-in-law.

"I should probably get changed," he says reluctantly, because he can tell dinner's not quite done yet. He turns to walk back upstairs, but Tamaki's voice calls him back.

"Er, while you were in the shower I looked through your backpack," he says, apologetic. "And, well, your clothes were all dirty and disgusting and whatnot, and you're a Hitachiin so I figured it was some kind of punishable-by-death crime. So I kinda threw your clothes out."

"So what am I supposed to wear?" Hikaru asks. He's not angry, just slightly annoyed. Knowing something in your own mind and hearing someone else say it are two completely different things. He _knows_ his clothes are filthy, but that doesn't mean Tamaki has a right to voice that little detail aloud.

"Just go through my suitcase and find something of mine. We're going to have to go shopping eventually."

With that, the blond turns back to the potatoes. Hikaru, with an exasperated sigh, starts up the stairs again. He tries to ignore the fact that he needs to practically cling to the cherry oak railing to avoid stumbling and falling.

He also tries to ignore the singing coming from the kitchen, because it reminds him way too much of his dear brother.

"_Que personne ne soit oublié, et que personne ne soit oublié_!"

"Can it, Tono!" Hikaru yells down the stairs, finally reaching the top. He walks into Tamaki's - _our? _- bedroom and looks around for a suitcase. He spots a blue suitcase in the corner and goes to it, undoing the zipper as quickly as possible.

He's still a Hitachiin. He still _loves_ clothes - especially expensive clothes - and he runs his hands eagerly over the 100% cotton shirts; the cargo pants that probably cost more than his monthly 'income'. He grins at the feel of them.

It takes him ten whole minutes, since he needs to look carefully at every single item of clothing, _of course_, but he eventually just throws on a pair of sweatpants and a matching sweatshirt. After all, it's not like he'll be going out again tonight. He may as well be comfortable.

"Did you fall asleep or something?" Tamaki laughs when Hikaru eventually comes back into the kitchen. There's food on the island now, waiting for Hikaru to devour it...and who is he to deny the calls of _delicious, mouthwatering_ chicken?

So, clean, comfortable, and hungry enough to eat _Tamaki_ if the blond tries getting in the way, Hikaru plops down on 'his' stool and proceeds to ravage the chicken and potatoes with gusto.

Tamaki waits until Hikaru's through with his plate and is retrieving seconds before attempting any sort of conversation.

"What have you been up to, these past few years?" he asks with a warm smile. It strikes Hikaru just how much he'd missed Tamaki without really noticing over the years. Mostly because he was focused on the fact that his old king stole his dream girl.

Really, though, that was no excuse for shutting him out completely. It's not like Hikaru wasn't given ample warning. Still - the night he was emailed the wedding invitation was the night he'd gone to Mei, crying, and asked her if she had something stronger than the usual.

Well, she did.

Heroin.

_Noun. A narcotic that is considered a hard drug; a highly addictive morphine derivative; intravenous injection provides the fastest and most intense rush._

All he'd cared about was that it would dull the pain, and he'd taken it like Mei had thrown him a life preserver.

And, well...she _did_.

"Not much of anything," Hikaru answers, now eating at a much more reasonable pace and marvelling at how good the meal tastes. _How the hell did Tono learn how to cook? He was just as spoiled as the rest of us._ "Parties, drugs, sex. It sounds fun until you look in the mirror and ask yourself how the fuck it got so bad." He sighs, and Tamaki pats his shoulder in a comforting way before returning to his meal.

"Well, if it makes you feel any better," Tamaki says with a wry smile. "I just wasted seven years of my life on a relationship that sunk more spectacularly than the Titanic."

"Weirdly, Tono," the brunet says, forcing a grin. "That _does_ make me feel better."

"That's because you like knowing your life isn't the only one that...well..." Tamaki trails off, as though searching for the right words to say without offending the younger man.

Hikaru relaxes his grin into something more genuine. "Royally sucks?"

The blond gives him a warm smile he doesn't really feel like he deserves. "Pretty much, yeah."

Friend.

_Noun. A person you know well and regard with affection and trust._

After a few moments of grinning at each other, they both start to laugh. And, for a long time, they can't bring themselves to stop.

**xx**

**TBC**

**xx**

**note;** I'd like to thank an anon reviewer, **Red**, for giving me a review that was interesting to read and really helped with my editing. If you're reading this chapter, Red, thanks a bunch. :)

And thank you to everyone else~! You're all darlings, even those who just fave or alert the story. At least I know you're enjoying it. :D


	4. if i had eyes

**disclaimer;** I don't own the song If I Had Eyes, or Ouran High School Host Club. And that sucks. A whole lot.

**warnings;** multiple 'triggers', drug abuse, boylove, etc.

Still interested? All right, then. Full steam ahead, I say.

**notes;** As always, thanks to my beautiful beta, December'sRose! Thanks for kicking me in the butt when I needed it. :D

Thanks so much to the reviewers of the last chapter; Ebony-S-White; Red; Magician April Aries; and Toki1. And thank you to the people who put this story on their favorites or alerts. You're all so awesome! :)

**xx**

can't give them enough

but we just can't start over

building with bent nails

we're falling but holding

-if i had eyes, jack johnson

**xx**

_"I specifically asked you _not_ to drink today."_

_Vaguely, Hikaru registers that someone is talking to him. He looks up from his wine glass and grins toothily at his brother._

_"Kaoru~!" he slurs, wrapping an arm tightly around Kaoru's shoulders. He feels dizzy all of a sudden - maybe he's less sober than he'd originally thought. "My favorite brother!"_

_Kaoru sighs, positioning himself so he can support Hikaru better. "I'm your only brother," he points out for probably the seventieth time. "And I need to get you home before you break something. Or someone."_

_"Aww," the brunet pouts, nuzzling his nose into his twin's neck. "But I'm having fun~"_

_The younger Hitachiin refuses to listen, half-dragging Hikaru towards the door._

_"Where are you going?"_

_He turns his head slightly to give the woman an exasperated smile. "This one here needs to lie down for a bit."_

_"Oh," she says, taken aback, "okay."_

_Leaning in to kiss her quickly, Kaoru whispers, "I love you."_

_Kimi forces a smile. "I love you, too. Don't be too long, or we'll miss our plane."_

_"Don't leave without me," he winks._

_"Ugh," Hikaru groans, "I think I'm going to throw up."_

_"Not on my dress, you don't!" Kimi holds her hands up defensively, backing up a few steps. "Your mother made me this specially!"_

_Hikaru rolls his eyes and puts more of his weight on Kaoru's arm, who grunts. With an apologetic look to Kimi, Kaoru practically carries his brother out of the hall. Once outside, the music and ambience dimmed, the redhead swallows back angry words and instead carefully helps his twin into the car._

_"Kimi won't forgive you if you make me miss my honeymoon." Kaoru shakes his head before slamming the car door._

_

* * *

_

Tamaki knows it's coming.

He can feel it, in his _bones_.

It's pretty much inevitable.

He sighs. _Might as well face the music._

Tamaki sits on his plush carpet, leaning against the side of the giant bed. Hikaru's hand has found its way to his hair. He feels like he should probably wake the Hitachiin up and inform him that he is _not_ a dog, so therefore it isn't polite to _stroke his hair_, but Hikaru looks too peaceful to disturb.

Flipping his cell phone open, he ignores the sense of guilt and dread that rises up in him. Why does he feel like he's about to get scolded by a strict parent or teacher? He turns the phone on for the first time since he left Japan.

_Twenty-seven missed calls. Thirteen texts. Two voice-mails._

Oh yeah. That's why.

Twenty-seven missed calls in a week or so, all from one, very intimidating contact. Tamaki resists the urge to whimper aloud as he sees the repeated nickname through his missed call list. There's one from _Father_ and two from _Haruhi_, but that just means the other twenty-four are from...

He scrolls through the texts, none of them remarkable in any way. Mostly just junk and useless _Hey, what's up?_s from casual acquaintances.

He sucks in a breath and hits the voice-mail button.

The first is exceptionally calm, considering.

"_Tamaki. What's going on? I called your house and Haruhi said you moved to France. Is this some kind of early April Fool's joke or something? Even you're not that stupid. Call me back._"

He goes to the second message, wincing and holding the small silver phone away from his ear as soon as the loud voice comes through.

"_Suoh! I talked some more to Haruhi, she says you went to go take care of your mother. _Your mother is here in Japan, _Tamaki, in case you've forgotten. You jackass, why haven't you called? I'm getting worried, and you can tell because _I just admitted I'm worried about you_, something is obviously wrong with me. Call me back as soon as you can. Bastard._"

Tamaki musters up all his courage and calls the scary man back. After all, he'll only get worse with time, as the blond has learned from experience.

"Hello?" a sharp, business-like voice answers on the first ring. _Wow, he's really strung tight._

"H-hey...Kyouya...it's me..."

There's complete silence for one...two...three...four...

"You bastard."

"I'm sorry, Kyouya, I'm sorry," Tamaki rambles, praying his best friend doesn't know how to punch somebody through a phoneline. "But Haruhi kicked me out because she's pregnant and I didn't feel up to telling you right away and now I'm in Paris and Hikaru -"

"Woah, wait, slow down." Kyouya sounds a little alarmed. "What was that about a pregnant Hikaru in Paris?"

"No, no, _Haruhi's_ pregnant," the blond tries to explain. His mind is in chaos right now, and he's not surprised Kyouya can't understand a word he's saying. "Hikaru's in my bed right now. And, yeah, I mean Hitachiin Hikaru."

Kyouya's quiet for a moment, then says in a dangerous voice, "If Haruhi is pregnant, why is _Hitachiin Hikaru_ in your bed, Tamaki?"

_Shit_. Tamaki realises, too late, the implications of what he just said. But Hikaru's fingers, still playing with his hair, are very distracting, and a bubble of hysteria is close to exploding inside of him.

"No, Mommy, that's not -" But it's useless. The damage has already been done.

"Don't _Mommy_ me."

Flinching, Tamaki braces himself for the worst. He thinks to himself that he really should start paying more attention to the words coming out of his mouth. They only get him into trouble when he doesn't.

"Haruhi's _pregnant_, you're in _Paris_, and Hitachiin Hikaru is _in your bed_. Now, let's play a game. It's called, 'what is wrong with this picture'?"

Well aware that once set off, Kyouya can rant with the best of them, Tamaki interrupts quickly. "It's not mine!"

Quiet. Then - "Pardon me?"

"It's not mine," the blond repeats, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to block out the tears. "The baby, I mean. It's not...it's not mine. I didn't want to leave."

And he tries to shut out the memory, but there's no use. It's done. It's through the barrier he'd set up.

_"Five weeks?" he repeats weakly. He feels like he can't stand anymore, and so he collapses onto the hard piano bench, completely shell-shocked._

_"Yeah," she says, eyes red from crying. She looks so breakable, so _vulnerable_, so unlike the Haruhi he knows and loves. That strong, independent woman that could put him in his place with a single word._

_She seems...broken._

_But it's nothing, _nothing_, compared to how he feels._

_"Who?" he asks in a hoarse voice. She just stares at him, tears still streaming down her flushed cheeks. Her eyes clearly say it - _I'm not going to tell you -_ but that's not what comes out of her pretty little mouth._

_What he hears is "Please, Tamaki...can you...can you leave?"_

_"What, like, leave the house?" His mouth is dry. He purposely misunderstands. "I suppose I can stay over at Kyouya's for the nig-"_

_"No, Tamaki." Her words are like daggers in his chest, gouging a hole that he knows will never be completely filled again. "I mean...it's for the best, if you _leave_. Go to France, take care of your mom. Just...I can't deal with this. With you."_

_His system has pretty much shut down. He doesn't remember who he is, or where he is, or why he's carrying a bouquet of red roses. All he knows is that he _hurts_._

_"So, then..." His voice is cracking, but he wills himself not to cry. She looks like she's in enough pain - she shouldn't have to deal with his, too. "You don't...love me anymore?"_

_She lets out a little sob and turns her face away, holding a shaking hand to her mouth as her eyes squeeze shut._

_That's enough of an answer for him._

_Without another word, he stands up, places the flowers on a nearby table, and moves to leave the room. Her voice causes him to freeze in his steps, hoping against hope that she's about to tell him it's all a joke, and of _course_ she loves him, why else would she be his wife for four and a half years?_

_That's not it, though. Of course that's not it._

_"Can you...do you mind...I mean, I know it's a burden, but I don't think...I don't want the piano," she says, finally. She still refuses to look straight at him, but her eyes are open now. "It's -"_

_"I get it," he says quietly. And he does. He gets why she doesn't want the piano. What he doesn't get is everything else she's said. "I'll take it."_

_He spends the next fifteen minutes packing his things and booking a flight straight to Paris. He knows his maman isn't there, but he's not about to tell Haruhi that. After pulling a few strings, he gets the piano shipped ahead of him. All the while the movers are there, carrying the heavy thing out, Haruhi's sitting in the kitchen, nursing a cup of tea. Her eyes are still bloodshot._

_Finally, it's time for him to leave. He looks behind him and gazes at the back of his wife's head. That silky brown hair he loved to play with when she was studying or working on a case, and he wanted her full attention. It fell just past her shoulders, now. As he watches, she tucks a strand behind her ear._

_He can't do it. He can't say goodbye to her._

_So he reaches over to a western-style vase containing a bunch of white roses and plucks one from its prison. Uncaring of the thorns, he drops the flower on the ground and opens the door._

_When it closes behind him, he allows himself to cry._

"Tamaki? Are you there?"

Jerking back into reality, Tamaki wipes at his eyes and tries not to sob aloud. Because if he does, Kyouya will be on a flight within minutes, and he can't handle seeing his best friend anytime soon.

"Yeah, I'm here," he whispers. It takes him a few seconds to notice, but eventually he does. The fingers in his hair have tightened. Not painfully, but enough to get his attention. He looks up to see Hikaru's eyes wide open and concerned. He forces a chuckle. "And so is Hikaru. He's awake now. Here, I'll put you on speaker."

Without giving Kyouya a chance to react, Tamaki presses the speaker-phone button and places his phone on the carpet beside him.

"Hello, Hikaru."

Tamaki closes his eyes and leans into Hikaru's touch. After a moment's hesitation, Hikaru starts stroking his hair again.

"Hey, Kyou," he replies, trying to keep his voice cheerful. Kyouya's tone is hard to place - he sounds cool, businesslike.

But Tamaki knows he's _pissed_.

"Sorry I didn't tell you earlier," Tamaki finally says, wiping his nose on his sleeve in a gesture that had Hikaru frowning in disapproval. "But I just couldn't, you know, handle it."

"So instead you bedded a Hitachiin," Kyouya says in his detached voice. The others look at each other and half-smile. _He's trying to joke, even though he's angry._

Tamaki leans his head back to rest on the bed, and Hikaru starts playing with his bangs. "Pretty much," he says with a grin. Hikaru snorts.

Eventually, Kyouya replies, his voice amused. "I was unaware you were anything but completely straight, Tamaki."

"I didn't _actually_ sleep with him," Tamaki laughs, rolling his eyes. "I mean, I did. Sleep beside him. But I didn't, you know, _sleep_ with him."

Hikaru scoffs. "We didn't _have sex_, you mean. You're still so innocent, Tono. It's a little pathetic."

Before Tamaki can defend himself and the conversation breaks into an all-out war between the two, Kyouya clears his throat.

"I haven't heard your voice in a long time, Hikaru. What have you been doing all these years?"

Tamaki knows Kyouya desperately wants to hear more about Haruhi, but isn't about to ask any more questions. They both know Tamaki can't handle it right now.

"Oh, you know," Hikaru says flippantly, resuming his ministrations on Tamaki's hair, "sex, drugs, rock 'n roll. The usual."

"Drugs? As in...something stronger than the marijuana you're so fond of?" Kyouya's voice is wary, hesitant.

Hikaru nods, then remembers that the older man can't see him. "Heroin, actually. Why?"

Tamaki's sighing with contentment, his eyes closed and his tears dried. Until Kyouya says his next words. Then, his violet eyes snap open.

"Have you gotten...you know, checked out since you started your, for lack of a better word, lifestyle?" he asks, voice almost concerned. Almost. "Have you been tested for HIV or anything of the sort?"

Hikaru freezes. He exchanges an alarmed look with Tamaki. "H-I-whatnow?"

They both recognise the acronym vaguely, but Tamaki can't remember what it is or where he heard it. By the look on Hikaru's face, he's thinking the same thing.

"Human immunodeficiency virus," Kyouya says, uneasiness creeping into his tone. "Caused by unprotected sex and shared needles. Your T-cells drop, and -"

"Whoa, stop the medical lesson," Hikaru says. He's starting to panic. He sits up and drapes his legs on Tamaki's shoulders. "What'll happen to me if I have it? Without any big words."

"You die," Kyouya says simply. "Within the year, if you haven't had treatment."

Silence falls over the room like a blanket, the good mood vanished.

"Listen." Kyouya sounds troubled. "Don't shoot up for a week or two. Call me if you start getting fevers or rashes or sore throats. If you feel below par at _all_, call me immediately."

"Wait!" Hikaru sounds agitated. He leans forward and wraps his arms around Tamaki's neck, practically suffocating the blond. "I can't just stop! If I do, I go into withdrawal, which makes me feel crappy and fevery and rashy and sore! How will I know the difference?"

"You won't."

Those two words seem to break something inside the Hitachiin. He loosens his grip and rests his forehead on the top of Tamaki's head, defeated.

"Sorry, but I've got a meeting in five. I have to let you go. Hikaru, go to a clinic and get your blood checked _immediately_." Kyouya's voice is sharp, leaving no room for argument.

"I don't like the hospitals here," Hikaru replies, his voice muffled. "I don't trust them."

Kyouya sighs, and the two can almost picture him adjusting his glasses, the light reflecting off them, just like old times. "Then come here. I'll test you personally."

"Thanks," Hikaru agrees, the fight gone from his voice. Tamaki grabs hold of the brunet's hands and squeezes them.

"Bye, Kyouya," he pitches in, subdued. "I'll talk to you later."

"Au revoir, boys." He hangs up, and the dial tone echoes through the room.

"What...do I do now?" Hikaru asks brokenly. Tamaki tightens his hold on the Hitachiin's calloused hands.

"You mean, what do _we_ do now?" Tamaki says firmly, leaning his head back to look Hikaru in the eye. His heart breaks a little at the confused mess his friend is. "And what we do is hop on the first flight back to Japan we can find."

He sounds much more certain than he feels.

Paris is a safe haven, a refuge. Tamaki's not ready to go back to Japan and face the reality of his situation. Hell, Hikaru's had six years away from it all and _he's_ not prepared.

"Stay with me?" Hikaru asks in a small voice.

Tamaki forces a princely smile. "But of course."

**xx**

**TBC**

**xx**

**notes;** Once again, thank you all! I promise your questions will be answered. Just hang in there. :)


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